My Big Red Moment

I was 12 years old, the oldest of four kids.  My parents were at a school meeting and I was babysitting. Fret not, helicopter parents. This was back in the day when 12 was plenty old enough to babysit for my own siblings.  And to have a regular group of paying families that I also sat for.

I started getting bad pains in my lower right quadrant.  I knew to call it my “lower right quadrant” because along with being a great babysitter, I was also a voracious reader.  I had finished my mom’s dog-eared copy of ‘Dr. Spock” years ago and had long since completed the Readers Digest version of “Diagnosing Common Ailments – When to Call the Doctor”.  I had narrowed it down to either acute Appendicitis or a Gall Bladder attack. 

Since this was also in the olden days before cell phones, I couldn’t call my parents and alert them of my diagnosis.  So I went withPlan B, which was to call our neighbor Louise.  Louise was an old family friend and the designated “911′ number for us to call in case of an emergency when my parents were not home.  Louise came over and after I confidently shared with her my symptoms and my two possible maladies, she looked me in the eye and asked me a question that was definitely NOT part of my diagnostic repertoire yet.

“Have you gotten your period yet?”

“Uh, no….”,  twisting my nightgown hem nervously.  Where did that question come from?

‘Well that’s it. You have cramps.  You will probably get your period tomorrow.  Congratulations.”  And with that bombshell, she was off, in a cloud of “More” cigarette smoke and “Charlie” perfume.

I waited for my parents to get home so I could pull my Mom off in a corner and tell her what happened.  She sniffed ‘Nah, not yet.  I was at least 13 or 14. It’s probably just gas.”

I went to bed feeling both relieved, and yet strangely let down.  See, I WANTED my period.  I had finished “Are You There God, It’s Me Margaret” at least 2 years prior.  I had a bra.  I was quietly boy crazy.  I had seen “What a Woman Knows” at the girls-only assembly in 5th grade.  I had my “Sample Pack for Young Ladies” hidden in my underwear drawer.  It was time. 

On the other hand I was terrified.  What if I got it at school?  What if people SAW it?  What if I was wearing a pad and it fell out and down my pant leg as I walked down the hall, like it did to Linda’s brother’s girlfriend’s best friend? ?  What if I used a tampon and it got stuck, like Vicki’s cousin’s best friend’s older sister, who had to go to the hospital and have it surgically removed??  What if it gave me zits, or made me crazy?  What if I sat on a toilet seat at the skanky movie theatre and got PREGNANT??   I was sure if it happened at school everyone would know and I would just die from embarrassment and have to transfer to private school in another town.

I had a flair for the melodramatic, no?

I worried about it all night, and frantically ran to the restroom between every class at school the next day, sure I was hemorrhaging.  And nothing happened.  Nothing.  The cramps/appendicitis/gall bladder attach went away.  And I was still just a tween who didn’t have her period yet. 

A week later, I was walking down the hall at school, chatting happily with a BOY, and it was going pretty well.   My palms were sweating, but I wasn’t being too goofy, and I had curled my hair and I had on my “cool” jeans.  Deciding that odds were in my favor, and wanting to “leave him wanting more!” like SEVENTEEN magazine recommended,  I ended the chat and ducked into a nearby restroom to “brush my hair”. 

I went in the stall, and there it was.  My period had started.  No fanfare.  No crazy mood swings or hemorrhaging.  No public humiliation.  I calmly walked down to the nurses office and told her what happened.  She congratulated me and pointed to the “supply” cabinet and told me to help myself.  I picked some giant pad that would surely have stansioned a severed limb.  I went back to class, feeling diapered, but somewhat thrilled.  No one knew.  No one laughed or pointed. 

I got home and found my Mom folding laundry. 

“Hi Mom, did the nurse call?”

‘No.  Why, are you sick?”

“No.  I got my period today.” 

My Mom started to cry, and so did I.  Then we both started to laugh and hug and cry and laugh.  She asked me how I felt, if I felt different, if I felt like a woman. I told her I felt like I wanted to take a shower.  She sent me upstairs with my first box of tampons and That was That.  As I walked up the steps I heard her calling my aunts to tell them the news.  She called my father at work and told him, and when he got home he hugged me and we had ice cream. 

All periods should begin and end with ice cream. 

This posting is in honor of this article I read about the publication of a book of stories all women share – their first period.  Which I am totally buying for my melodramatic, boy crazy, voracious reader, doppleganger  of a niece, Sarah, for her 12th birthday this year.